Faithful Portrait
by Berryl
Summary: “I don't enjoy excitement. I hate fuss. Simple and boring, that's the way I like. Now, I'm confused. One simple photo shooting changed everything, and if I had known, I'm not sure if I would have done the same thing I did.” - Craig Tucker / Creek


**Title: Faithful Portait  
Chapters: ?  
Fandom: South Park  
Rating: M (just to be on the safe side)  
Narrative: Craig's PoV, first person  
Genre: Romance & comedy  
Warnings: Slash  
Disclaimer: South Park (c) Trey&Matt**

**Author's Note: It takes place in High School, even if the beginning is based on one episode of the eigth season ("**Quest for Ratings**"). Kenny won't die in every chapter. I try to write it as realistic as I can imagine - so there won't be thousands of slash pairings. And I hope Craig isn't too ooc. DX  
This is my first English fanfiction - and my first South Park fanfiction as well ... If it isn't good, I apologize. Critisism would be vry nice, pa-lease. : D ! Need to improve my style.. really.. gosh..  
That's it, I think. kthxbye. Have fun.  
**

* * *

**- FAITHFUL PORTRAIT -**

**Chapter oo1: Genius vs. Fools**

There was a loud noise as I entered the audio visual department. I was in no good mood like on every other day in this goddamn school and suddenly (darn my luck) Mr. Meryl called me here – right to the main causes of my daily bad temper.

Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman and some other poor souls stood in front of me and talked to Mr. Meryl.

I knew right off there would be trouble.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Meryl?"

"Oh yes, Craig", the teacher answered somehow disappointedly. "It appears that the ratings for your show went down significantly."

Mr. Meryl talked about a project of mine: 'Animals Close-Up With a Wide-Angle Lens'. A video show I did for fun, but it got much more viewers and fans than expected. Didn't matter to me, though. The truth was: Somehow I did it just to piss Cartman & co. off.

And I got paid six dollars a week to come up with new shows. Decent pocket money.

"Gee, what a coincidence", Stan commented.

"I wonder w-w-why", Jimmy stuttered, grinning like some harlequin.

I ignored them.  
Really, I gave a shit. I just did not like them. All of them. Not only were they getting me in trouble constantly, but they annoyed me with their stupid "sexy action school news" show or whatever.  
Yet I wondered why Token participated – or how the rich boy could stand the others for more than two minutes.

"You need to know how important ratings are, Craig", the teacher continued without hesitation, "so I'm gonna suspend you from school and request that you have your testicles removed surgically."

Wow. Whatever. Was just a show. And I hated school anyway.

..but wait a sec.

What?

"Haha! In your face, Craig!", Cartman oinked loudly and I gave him the finger. Wasn't the first time I wished I would be able to make some magical laser appear out of it and hit him right into his forehead.

Fatass.

"Boys, you did a really good job." Mr. Meryl stood and gave the group of maniacs an undeserved thumbs-up."You are approved for twenty-seven new shows. Now I want you to come up with an even better idea. Get to it!"

The news-group left, all of a sudden with fading enthusiasm.

I took the chance to speak to the lunatic in front of me. "I don't want any surgery." And I wanted to keep my balls, man! Was he crazy?

However, the teacher just sighed. "Craig, you have to understand how important ratings are", he repeated and obviously thought everything was clear. Well, not for me.

"But why a damn surgery?!" My temper was rising, and again it was attributed to my most precious _friends_ in school. Curse them.

"Ratings mean attention. And testicles need attention as well. If your small mind thinks you need no ratings, you'll need no testicles either, Craig."

Confused, I just stared at him.

"That makes perfect sense", he tried to convince me.

"It does?"

"So, youngster." He rubbed his eyebrows, somehow frustrated. "Either you go come up with a new show, which will get higher ratings than the Sexy Action school news, or you say good-bye to your marbles. And to your six dollars a week."

I blinked.

Yep.

This. Meant. War.

* * *

As I sat in Mr. Garrison's lesson (our incompetent, bald homeroom teacher, who followed us to High School), I thought about my options and what I had to do.

First: Somehow I needed to get to know what my schoolmates loved to watch on television. Maybe I could do some polls. Without seeming to be interested in their boring lives, though. How annoying.

Second: Filming scenes, cutting them down, setting the outcome to music.

Oh. Yes. And third: To keep my balls and to laugh at Fatass and the shitheads. (Sounds kinda like a band, eh? "Fatass and the shitheads released their new album 'I lost to a genius' with their most popular song 'Why am I such a loser?', now in stores.")

I grinned to myself because of my rare stupidity.

"Mr. Tucker, do you want to tell us what's so funny about drug abusing behavior?", Mr. G called from the front of the class.

I automatically flipped him off.

"Did you just gave me the finger, Craig?", he barked disbelievingly.

"No."

"Detention!"

The class laughed loudly, most of them already used to my behavior and Mr. Douchebag's tantrums.

* * *

"Hey, buddy!"

I ignored the familiar voice until a hand landed on my left shoulder. Without looking and while I closed my locker, I knew right off it was one of my best friends: Clyde.

"Sorry 'bout your balls, dude."

I goggled at him. "...the fuck?"

"Cartman."

Ah. Right. How could I forgot? In South Park, rumors spread faster than the flu. Especially if Cartman knew something – 'cause the guy got no own interesting life.

"Can't believe Meryl chose their faggy news show over yours. 'kay, this one was rather interesting, but still, Fatass and the others? Is he serious?"

"You watched it?"

A sheepish smile flickered about his face. "I'm sorry for your show, dude."

"Nah", I responded indifferently. "Just have to find a new program, get higher ratings and laugh at Cartman's face. 's nothing."

"So you won't lose your show, then?"

"Nope."  
Maybe it wasn't 'just a show'. Maybe it wasn't just to piss Cartman, Marsh and Broflovski off. Actually it was something I liked to do. Actually I could forget my hatred towards everything and everyone when I held my camera in both of my hands and shot what came in front of my lens.  
Yep. It was my one and only hobby, distraction, whatever – and with this thought, fuck no, I wouldn't let these stupid twerps take my prime time away from me.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Clyde and I winced synchronously as a loud _THUMP_ sounded from the other side of the hallway. Apparently we weren't the only ones who became aware of two blondes, both hyperactive in their own strange ways and now competing their ridiculousnesses in front of dozens of pupils.

Snickering ruthlessly, Kenny McCormick set a twitchy blonde back on his feet. "You are such a spaz, Tweek."

"My - _ngh_ - coffee!"

Another snicker. "And you are hopeless."

As I was watching the scene in front of me, something nudged my left shoe. It took me some seconds to realize it was the wreck's lemon-green thermos, which had rolled through the whole hallway.

For an instant I thought about kicking it or something. Just because. (And I doubted anyone would care except the spaz.) However, I picked it up, and immediately two big pairs of eyes pierced right through me.

"Aw, Craig, pal!", Kenny said with his queer grin of a smile, jumping to my side.

Due to this smile there were times I wondered if it was good or bad he didn't wear his hood anymore.

"C-Craig."

My grip around the cold plastic tightened as I watched the second blonde approaching, his left eye twitching nervously. Seriously, I was somehow amazed he had the courage to talk to me. It was no secret I couldn't stand the spaz since our fight in the fourth grade – and in this very moment I kinda got the feeling I had to remind him of my emotions towards him.

A loud '_clonk_', followed by a piercing "GAH!", echoed through the whole hallway as the thermos slid through pale shaky hands and landed flatly on the floor. And when the bundle of nerves finally managed to pick it up, I expressed my thoughts loudly. "Freak."

I earned laughter I hadn't wanted, while the spaz did a runner. Almost at the same time Kenny elbowed me slightly and gave me some "nu-uh, bad Craig"-look.

I ignored him.

"Gosh, what a freak show", Clyde parroted, staring after the aptly nicknamed student. "Just how can you stand his twitches and jerks the whole time, McCormick?"

Kenny fairly shrugged. "He's funny."

"Being able to laugh at him doesn't make him funny", I answered instead of Clyde and finally began to trot away from the lockers. Faintly I could hear my best friend laughing and then mumbling something about his waiting mother before he turned on his heels and ran away.  
Yep. His mum could become impatient easily. Everyone in South Park High knew thanks to her high-pitched voice of doom. ("CLYDE! CLYDE, DAMN IT!! I'M WAITING NOW FOR FIVE MINUTES, WHERE ARE YOU BOY?!")

"You are mean, Craig", Kenny responded half-heartedly, letting me wonder at the same time why he was following the mean me like some lost puppy.

"And you are horny all the time, Ken."

"What?"

"I thought we were stating the obvious."

He rolled his eyes, yet smirking like a buffoon.

When nothing came back, I thought it was the right time for a change of topics. "We need a new idea for my show."

Right. 'We need'. 'My show'. It was like this since the first day when he waited for me in front of my locker to ask if he could help me out, because his friends could "kiss his ass", like he told me. I didn't knew what Cartman had caused again, but some help was … well, helpful. So thanks, Fatass.  
And the poor blonde always did the filthy jobs for two dollars out of six. It was just handy.

"What's with the big-nosed dogs?"

"Low ratings", I answered shortly. I decided to skip Mr. Meryl's threat.

He blinked. "Oh."

"I thought we could talk things over today, get a plan ready and such shit."

"Now?", he asked, his voice betraying him. He sounded hopefully. But really, I couldn't blame him. If we did this stuff now, he would have to come over, to my house – and even if my mum couldn't cook too well, it was better than some cold beans.

"No. Mr. Dickhead gave me detention."

He laughed loudly as if I told a joke. "Surprise, surprise. But wait." The orange-clad boy took a look around and when his eyes landed on an attractive female teacher, he demonstrated me once more how right I was about him.

Two seconds later, his hand was on her ass.

"M-M-MISTER MCCORMICK! DETENTION FOR YOU! _NOW_!"

"Thank you, love." He leered at her.

And I just sighed.

* * *

**A/N: I really hope it's not too lame. D: I know, there's nuthin big yet. But there will be soon. (I hope so...) XD**


End file.
